


The Day Before

by Mechanical_Orange



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechanical_Orange/pseuds/Mechanical_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rich man, a powerful bender and an undefeated champion - Tahno is all of these things and none of these things, and every day it takes a little more of himself to admit it. If you run from your past, ignore your present and dread your future, what else do you have? It's not like Korra has the answer, but it doesn't stop her from guessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day Before

People only see what they want to – the trappings of a rich man, a powerful bender and an undefeated champion.  He’s only twenty-three and already a widower, though it’s not as if he hadn’t seen that coming.  Marrying at nineteen is not unheard of, but marrying a woman nearly forty years older – that _is_ strange.  He thinks the fact that she was a wealthy heiress mollified people at first, then riled them up again.  How dare he take advantage of a lonely old woman, they thought.  But if only they knew the truth; if only they knew exactly _who_ was taking advantage of _whom_ , their thoughts might change.

 

But maybe not. 

 

Fifteen is far too young to run away to the city, nineteen is far too young to get married and twenty-three is far too young to lose everything that made you feel something other than shame and regret.

 

He enters the estate from a side gate; it’s the only gate his key will open.  The entire mansion, all fifty thousand square feet of it, is dark.  He likes it that way, a reminder of all that empty space that doesn’t really belong to him.  He feels like a squatter, lives like one, even though the law says it’s his.  But this place isn’t home; it never was.  He figures if his dear late wife hadn’t died so suddenly, she would’ve tired of him eventually and sent him on his way with an appropriate amount of money.  But her death occurred before that could happen, and so the estate fell to him.  The closest relative.

 

He enters the west wing and flips on a light.  This huge mansion is entirely his, and yet he sleeps, eats and lives in only one room.  It’s a mess, clothes and newspaper everywhere.  His hotplate is in the corner, but it’s mostly unused.  One wall holds his entire life – all his accomplishments – plated and framed, and hung in an orderly pattern.  They unfold chronologically, right to left, like a picture book of his life.  First are his amateur wins with a firebender named Kumi and an earthbender named Yin.  They’re only in the first few pictures, then Shaozu and Ming show up.  They go pro as the White Falls Wolfbats, and win… and win… and win.  They won tonight too.  But Tahno never wants to see another picture of the Wolfbats again.

 

He lunges for the wall, tearing down each and every picture frame.  The glass shatters at his feet and rip the newspaper clippings within.  It all happens so fast – his life erased in seconds.  He stares at the broken glass and splintered wood, at all the paper that outlined everything good about his life, the only evidence he could point to and say, “Look what I did; look what I am.  I’m worth something and everyone knows it.”

 

He can’t stop the tears as they fall, and what does it matter?  There’s no one else here to see them.  He tries so hard that night; he tries everything he can think of.  But the water he keeps in the jugs in the corner of his room won’t come to him.  He can’t even produce one ripple in the glassy surface.  It remains stagnant, staid, dead. 

 

He tries to sleep, but he only sees images of Amon towering over him when he closes his eyes.

 

As soon as dawn breaks he leaves the estate.  He goes straight to his healer.  And then another, and another, and another.  It hurts more each time they say sorry, but there’s nothing they can do.

 

He’s summoned to the police station; he goes because he has nothing else to do.  He sees Ming and Shaozu as they’re leaving.  They acknowledge each other with a nod, but nothing more.  What’s the point?  They look as awful as he feels, and judging by the way they look at him he guesses he must look even worse.  His hair, his eyes, his clothes – they haven’t been this unkempt since he was living on the streets of Republic City all those years ago.  He remembers those days, how he would’ve given anything to be rich, famous, or at least off the streets with food in his stomach.  And now, he thinks, he would give anything to be back there – fifteen years old and scared stupid, but still a waterbender.

 

He waits on a bench to be called in for questioning.  People pass him by, some giving him a double take, whispering behind their hands, but none stop to talk to him.  He sneers even in his self-pity.  If it wasn’t clear before, then it’s definitely clear now.  People only wanted him for one thing, and he doesn’t have it anymore.  Is there even a person in this city who cares about _him_?  Not the pro-bender, not the playboy and not the wealthy widower, but Tahno.  Just Tahno of the – well, it doesn’t matter where.  People never want to look too deep into their fantasies anyway.  They shouldn’t, unless they want to suffer the heartbreaking disillusionment that comes with discovering your hero, savior, sexual fantasy is nothing more than a pack of lies and empty promises.  Tahno tries desperately to tamp down all those hated memories of his late wife and her demands and her promises and her temper.  He was put down for so long that he learned how to effectively put down others – in the ring, and off.  It worked so well that he had people (like that half-wit Bolin) running scared, and the other half willingly falling in behind him.  But he was secretly thrilled that night at the noodle shop when the Avatar had done neither; it was so refreshing.  After that night he had wanted to see her again outside the ring, and without the ferret brothers.  He had every intention of conducting some _private lessons_ with her, but now…

 

It’s pointless. 

 

He hears footsteps nearby and catches her blue clothes in the corner of his eye.  Of course she would be here, being the Avatar and all.  He doesn’t know what to say to her; he doesn’t even know if he wants to say anything to her, but –

 

“Hey Korra,” the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.  Even to his ears, his voice sounds pathetic.

 

“Tahno?”   She sits down next to him, and he looks away.  He’s not sure what he’s feeling.  Shame?  Resentment?  Regret?  “Listen, I know we’re not exactly best friends, but I’m sorry Amon took your bending.”

 

He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he can’t help himself.  “I’ve been to the best healers in the city.  Whatever Amon did to me, it’s permanent.”  He hates the way his voice cracks.  And so, to save face he adds, “You gotta get him for me,” with as much conviction as he can muster.  It’s the best he can do and he’s glad at Tenzin and Chief Bei Fong’s interruption.  He finds it in himself to draw up the last dregs of nonchalant confidence and parts with a smarmy, “See you around, _uh_ vatar.”

 

He knows it doesn’t sound like it, but it’s the most sincere thing he’s said in a very, very long time.

 

                                                                                                                 ~~~*~~~

 

The interrogation is… painful.  He goes through his day, from waking up with some floozy he picked up the night before, to training, to bribing the refs, then back to training, to messing around with some other floozy, to spying on the Fire Ferrets (particularly the Avatar) and finally to the championship match, every round, every cheap shot and obvious foul, every hit the Avatar landed on him, the final round, the win and the glory, and then…

 

He says all he remembers is Amon’s thumb on his forehead, the pressure on his skull, the strange ensuing emptiness, and utter helplessness when the water he fell into refused to do what he told it.

 

When it’s all said and done, he decides he needs a drink.  And another, and another.  He drinks fire whisky straight from the bottle, and he can’t remember, but he’s pretty sure it’s his second.  Or third.  Although he’s hidden himself in a corner of the bar, he can still catch people glancing at him and whispering.  He sneers as he imagines what they’re saying about him.

 

_That’s Tahno, the pro-bender.  Look at him now, just a useless drunk.  Maybe he can go back to what he used to do, before the Wolfbats, back when he was a_ whore _._

 

Tahno slams his bottle onto the table.  He’s had enough of these people and their whispers, though his head is so hazy he can no longer tell if their conversations are real or imagined.  It doesn’t matter.  He stands – barely maintaining his balance – takes his half-empty bottle and leaves.  He gets about half a block away before he feels something churning in the pit of his stomach.  He vomits in the alley, and takes another swig of whisky to wash the taste out.  And he’s so tired now, this alley seems a good a place as any to lie down, so he does.  In a twisted way, this feels like home to him; it reminds him of those first months on the streets with cardboard mattresses and newspaper blankets.  It’s so familiar, and he curls up, ready for the streets to embrace him once again.

 

“Tahno?”

 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be too drunk not to recognize that voice.

 

“Hello, _uh_ vatar.”

 

“Tahno what are you – are you okay?”

 

He scoffs.  “I don’t know, _uh_ vatar, do I look okay?”

 

“Where do you live?  I’ll take you home,” she says as she peers down at him with her bright blue eyes.

 

“I am home,” he mumbles. 

 

“You live in the alley?” The Avatar asks.  For some reason it’s the incredulity in her voice that sets him off.

 

“And what if I did?” he asks.  “What would you do then?”

 

“Tahno, I – ”

 

“Save it,” he says, taking another drink from his bottle.  “It doesn’t matter.”  He staggers to his feet, and brushes past her.  Forget the alley, and the Avatar.  He’ll make it back on his own accord.  Only, she seems to be following him.

 

“Bolin told me you lived in a mansion,” she admits sheepishly to his back.

 

“Is that why you’re here?” he asks scornfully.  “You want to see if it’s true?”

 

“I just… I just didn’t know pro-bending paid so well,” she says.

 

He staggers to the side gate and takes out the key.

 

He manages to open it before the world goes black.

 

                                                                                                                    ~~~*~~~

 

He’s surrounded by thick dark water; it’s crushing him and he keeps falling into its depth.  He can’t breathe so he moves his arms, but the water still presses against him.  It fills his mouth, his lungs; this must be what drowning is like.  Tahno twists and turns and tries to right himself, to find the surface and swim, but it’s futile.  He opens his mouth, desperate for air, and inhales…

 

He wakes up, coughing and panting and covered in sweat.  It was just a dream.  A nightmare.  He’s at home, in his bed, and the water is as immovable as ever.  It takes a moment, but right after he opens his eyes, and right before the splitting headache of a hangover arrives, he almost remembers a pair of blue eyes and the feel of smooth, dark skin brushing against him.  But then it’s gone and he half-crawls to the bathroom in order to puke out whatever still might be sloshing in his stomach.  The cold tiles feel nice against his skin and he struggles to remove his shirt, eager to feel the cool porcelain collide with as much of his body as it can.  He lies there trying to pretend the way he’s feeling – the pain of a hangover, coupled with the haziness of one still drunk from the day before – is a result of a party in the Wolfbats honor, celebrating their latest victory. 

 

Only, he was never very good at pretending.

 

He closes his eyes, drifting back to sleep, unconsciousness, whatever will make him forget for a little while longer, however –

 

He’s suddenly doused with ice cold water, and he bolts upright ready to bend at his assailant, but then he remembers…

 

“Tahno, you’re awake!” 

 

“Korra?” he asks, “What are you doing here?”

 

“You… you don’t remember?”

 

“Remember what?”

 

“Last night.  We came back here and…”

 

_Oh shit,_ he thinks.  _Please don’t tell me we did and I don’t remember._

 

“I told you to go to sleep and that I’d check on you in the morning.”  She looks at his blank face.  “You really don’t remember?  You told me you’d be fine and to get the hell out.”

 

Tahno sinks back down onto the tile.  He has no recollection of last night, just the humiliation of the police interrogation, his pathetic words to the avatar, and a bottle full of amber liquid.

 

“So then get the hell out,” he groans.

 

“But I brought you breakfast.”  She produces a bag from behind her back.  “Seaweed soup.”

 

It’s all Tahno can do to make it to the toilet before he starts dry heaving.

 

“T-Tahno?”

 

“Just leave,” he ekes out in between heaves. 

 

“But I –”

 

“Go!” he yells.  His voice is scratchy and broken, not at all like she’s used to hearing it.  It scares her into compliance.

 

He doesn’t watch her go; he keeps his head down, staring at the tile.  Once he hears the door shut he gets shakily to his feet and sees it – she left the soup behind.

 

Tahno flushes it down the toilet.

 

                                                                                                                     ~~~*~~~

 

Something like a day passes, maybe more than one, and it’s not like he’s sick of seeing the four walls of his room, exactly; most of the time he’s just too drunk to notice them.  Still, when he’s good and half-sober, he decides to take a walk, and it’s _not_ because he’s drunk all of his booze.

 

He doesn’t know what time it is, only that it’s night.  And the very minute he steps outside it begins raining. 

 

All those tiny raindrops that fall around him are just that – raindrops.  Not weapons or tool or toys, but just raindrops.  Tahno half-heartedly lifts his fingers and tries not to scream when nothing happens.  He can’t be surrounded like this, taunted and ridiculed by the only thing that used to bring him comfort.  Since that night at the arena, was it three days ago?  Four?  But since that night, he’s stayed away from water as much as he could.  Every time he comes in contact with it, or forces himself to drink it in between bottles of whisky, he shudders and sighs and tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him when he feels absolutely nothing.

 

 But he’s already outside and he’s hungry and he will not let a little rain break him.  It’s pretty much force of habit that he ends up at the noodle shop and sits in the back just like he used to.  He’s alone, though.  No teammates or tittering girls hanging off his arm.  It’s fine, he tells himself.  He’s just going to eat and leave and then wake up tomorrow with no memory of it.

 

A bowl of noodles appears on the table in front of him and he digs in, vehemently ignoring the pictures of himself on the wall behind him.

 

He’s only about halfway through his dinner when he hears it – the unmistakable laugh of the Avatar.  He looks up and spots her; she’s sitting at the same table she did on the night they first met.  She’s with the earthbender too and Tahno wonders if they’re dating.  Bolin doesn’t seem her type, but what does he know?  It looks like they’re having a good time

 

The Avatar slurps down her noodles in between chuckles, and then she stops smiling altogether.  She catches Tahno’s eye and it’s not like that first night at all.  Where before she was curious, undaunted; now she is pitying and timid.  He watches her with disdain as she says something to Bolin.  The earthbender quickly swivels in his seat to stare at Tahno, then quickly turns around again when he sees the ex-waterbender staring daggers right at him.  Korra stands and Tahno’s focus shifts to her; he grimaces when he sees her approaching. 

 

“Hi, Tahno,” she says carefully, as if she were approaching a wild hogmonkey.

 

“Avatar,” he responds with what he hopes is an even, nonchalant tone.

 

“How are you?” she asks.  Her voice is so kind, and so caring; it pisses Tahno off.

 

“I’m just fine, _uh_ vatar.”

 

“Good,” she says brightly.  “Mind if Bolin and I join you?”  She smiles at him.  He hates it.

 

“I was just leaving actually,” he says.

 

Korra glances at his half-eaten bowl.  “Really?”

 

“Yes, really,” he tells her tersely, standing up and flipping a few coins onto the table.  “Maybe some other time.”  He brushes past her and heads to the door.  Bolin pointedly looks away as Tahno walks by his table; some things never change.

 

The rain has stopped by the time Tahno makes it out of the restaurant.  It’s a little foggy, and the streets are damp, but Tahno’s glad to no longer feel the pressure of a thousand tiny water drops hitting his skin. After a few blocks he hears footsteps behind him, and he already knows who it is before he even turns around.

 

“Korra,” he says.  The footsteps stop abruptly.  “I don’t need you to follow me home.  I’m not drunk.”  _Much._   “Unless…”  His voice trails off, an unasked question hanging between them.  But as always, the Avatar is a little slow on the uptake.

 

“Unless what?” she asks.

 

He turns to look at her, smirk firmly in place.  “Unless you want to take me up on that offer?”

 

“What offer?”

 

“You remember,” he grins.  “The one for private lessons?”

 

Korra’s eyes widen in recognition.  “As if,” she scoffs.

 

And now that they’re back to this Tahno feels so much better.  It’s just like how things used to be – Tahno incorrigible, the Avatar indignant.

 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to decline,” Tahno says.  “There are lots of things I can teach you.”  He slinks closer to her and his heart quickens – the thrill of intimidation.  “Things your boyfriend can’t.”

 

“My boyfriend?” she asks.

 

“The earthbender from your team,” he says.  “What’s his name?”  He pretends to think for a moment.  “Bolin?”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Korra tells him.  “He’s just a friend.”

 

“Oh?”  Tahno raises his eyebrow.  “Maybe you should tell him that.”

 

“He knows,” she says.  “I told him that after –”  She stops herself, looking alarmed.

 

“After what, _uh_ vatar?”

 

“Nothing,” she replies sharply.  “Just go home, Tahno.”

 

He smirks again, so unbelievably happy to have riled her up.  “Good night, _uh_ vatar.”  He turns on his heel and starts walking home.

 

He barely hears it when she mutters, “Good night, Tahno,” behind him.


End file.
